


How the Play Ends

by Miss_Vile



Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s03e22 Heavydirtysoul, M/M, References to Drugs, Season 3 Finale, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: Edward clenched his eyes shut until he was seeing white dots. He wasn't going to be able to go through with it. He knew he couldn't. He knew before they even got to the pier that he wouldn't be able to kill Oswald. But... there was a gun in his hand.His other half's earlier suggestion to take his own life instead suddenly sounded a whole lot more appealing.





	How the Play Ends

**Author's Note:**

> I re-watched this scene recently and thought up a different ending. I wrote this on a depression spike in about 2 hours. Prolly lots of typos. Maybe OOC. Who knows. I just wanted to publish it and feel like I accomplished something today. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Oswald was in a trance and, if Edward was completely honest, he felt like he was in one as well. Edward thought it was odd that Oswald hadn't batted an eye when they took the familiar route to the docks. The bird's pale green eyes were fixated on a singular point in front of him. It made Ed wonder if this version of Oswald wasn't just in his head.

He swallowed and ran his tongue along his teeth and gum line, hoping to not taste the bitterness of the drug he had been so reliant on not too long ago. He let out a sigh of relief when he didn't find anything. But that meant there was something _else_ wrong. Oswald had completely flipped his emotions. One minute he was screaming and throwing a tantrum as Ed wrestled him into the backseat of the cop car and the next he was staring off into the void. Perhaps he was finally accepting his fate. But that seemed too easy. _The Penguin would never go quietly..._

“_He did the last time we shot him.” _His reflection spoke to him from the rearview mirror, _“He didn't even scream. He just looked heartbroken and then we threw him in the river.” _The Riddler made a face like the memory made his stomach churn

“Shut up...” Ed gritted his teeth

“I didn't say anything.” Oswald spoke. They were the first words he had uttered since being thrown in the back of the car.

Edward swallowed, “Not_ you._”

“Oh...” Oswald looked up. His eyes locking with Edward's in the mirror like they were each other's reflection, “Does he still talk to you?”

“I...yes.” Edward barely spoke above a whisper.

Oswald had born witness to countless evenings where Edward would suddenly lash out at some unseen figure in the corner of the room. Edward had explained that he was seeing some _projection of impulse_ and that sometimes its voice would get so loud that he couldn't focus on anything else. To Ed's relief, Oswald hadn't rejected him for it. He simply accepted that it was just something Edward did from time to time. He never shamed him for his illness. He was the only person he ever knew who didn't.

“Is he the reason you're doing all of this?” Oswald asked

“_Our birdie always was perceptive.”_ The Riddler chuckled, _“Though, he is confusing me for you.”_

“What do you mean?” Ed ignored his hallucination

“I just don't understand how you can go from devoting yourself to me and our friendship and then shoot me. Seems a little extreme.”

“_He's got a point there, buddy.”_ said the Riddler

“Yeah, well, killing my girlfriend is also a little extreme!” Edward yelled

“Is it?” Oswald smirked, “Because, if I recall, what_ I_ did was no different than what _you_ did for Miss Kringle.”

“That was _absolutely_ different and you know it.” Edward sneered. He could still smell Officer Dougherty's blood on his hands. He could still see the lifeless look in Kristen's eyes when she slid down to the floor.

“Perhaps.” Oswald nodded his head

Edward noticed that Oswald's hand was worrying some object in his jacket pocket. _Idiot,_ he thought, _you didn't search him for other weapons!_ Oswald usually kept a knife on him and was no doubt planning on using it the moment he had the opportunity.

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Oswald was looking away again

“Don't be so pathetic, Oswald. You can't talk your way out of this!” Edward growled

“_Why not?”_ asked the Riddler,_ “Neither one of us actually wants him to die.”_

They pulled up to the docks. Thunder rumbled in the distance. There was a loud crack of lightning. Droplets of rain. It was just like the first time Ed took Oswald out here to shoot him._ Fitting,_ Ed thought. Oswald had somehow found a way to rewind the clock and there they were again. Ed almost wanted to thank him... but _something_ was nagging at him. A voice screaming in the back of his mind. It made his ears ring and his chest hurt. It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. It was one he had chosen to carve out of himself that day he dumped the last of the drugs into the river and said goodbye to his hallucination.

“_Why can't we just admit that we're grateful that Oswald is back in our lives?” _The Riddler was beside him now in the passenger seat, _“This is our second chance, Ed. Why are we throwing this away?”_

Edward didn't answer. He opened the door and, to his surprise, Oswald didn't try to run. Instead, he looked out over the pier where he would be making his final death march. He briefly locked eyes with Edward but was quick to avert them.

Oswald limped toward the water. His gait more pronounced given the fact that less than an hour prior, Oswald had run away from a gunfight and had strained his injury. The weather also played a factor. Edward recalled a moment at his old apartment when Oswald had been unable to stand properly after breakfast. It was cold and rainy outside which made his leg hurt. Oswald, being stubborn, insisted on icing it. Edward had offered to help massage the muscle and offer warmth but Oswald refused. Edward didn't press the matter because he didn't want to overstep the boundaries that had been made between them. Even if he wanted to cross those boundaries anytime Mr. Penguin looked at him.

“Here we are. Again.” Edward heard himself say. He wasn't sure if it was him or The Riddler talking at this point. His head was static and his eyes were unfocused, “Wow. I have to tell ya... this feels _really_ great.”

“_Liar.”_ The Riddler scoffed

“Glad I could help.” Oswald's tone of voice lacked its usual sarcastic bite. His comment almost sounded genuine. He had helped Edward on his journey of self-discovery in more ways then one. This was just another step.

Edward inhaled deeply and prepared himself for the inevitable, “Any last words?”

“I'm fine for now.” Oswald replied

“I beg your pardon?” It took Edward a moment to process the words

“I'll wait.”

“I'm going to kill you, Oswald.” Ed growled

“_No, we won't.”_ The Riddler's voice was eerily calm, much like Oswald's, _“We'd kill ourselves before plunging back into that hole we were in before.”_

“There is no later. If you have something to say, _now is the time_.” Edward spoke over his hallucination. He had to stay on script. He knew how this particular scene played out and he wasn't going to let his subconscious shatter the illusion he had created for himself. It was the only way he could go through with it a second time. Hell, it was the only way he could go through with it the_ first _time.

“Duly noted.”

“Oh, whatever. I'm _not_ letting you ruin this for me.” Edward pointed the gun at his former friend's heart. His hands were shaking. He could feel his knees buckle. His body was slowly betraying him, “Before I do this... I need to ask you something.”

“Ask away.” Oswald responded with the same palpable repose he carried earlier

“Why didn't you just tell me you loved me?” Ed's aim faltered, “That morning... at the manor. When you said you had something important to tell me... Why didn't you say it then?”

“I was afraid you would reject me.” Oswald answered honestly, “I didn't want to damage our friendship.”

“Yeah... look how well that turned out.” Edward scoffed

“For what it's worth: I'm sorry.”

“...What?” Edward blinked. Oswald never apologizes for anything. The admission came at Edward like a knife to his heart.

“I shouldn't have had her killed.” Oswald sighed, “I regret all of it. I'm so, so sorry that I betrayed you, Edward.”

“Shut up!” Edward screamed

“I thought you wanted to hear what I had to say?” Oswald cocked his head to one side

“I do. I just...” Edward stammered

“_You just don't like what you hear.”_ The Riddler interjected, _“And you don't like acknowledging all of the missed opportunities.”_

_I would do anything for you._

_I continue to be in awe of you, Oswald._

“Stop it!” Edward gripped either side of his head. He screamed in an attempt to drown out the echoes of memory.

“Ed?”

Edward clenched his eyes shut until he was seeing white dots. He wasn't going to be able to go through with it. He knew he couldn't. He knew before they even got to the pier that he wouldn't be able to kill Oswald. But... there was a gun in his hand.

His other half's earlier suggestion to take his own life instead suddenly sounded a whole lot more appealing. He knew that Oswald still loved him. And he knew that meant Oswald wouldn't be able to stomach killing him either. Or, if he did, it would destroy him. Just like it had destroyed Ed. And Edward didn't want to hurt him like that.

They would continue to play this cat and mouse game until one of them was caught in a trap or was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Edward didn't want that for Oswald. If the Penguin was going to climb back onto the throne of Gotham- which he would- then he didn't need some pathetic wannabe like Edward distracting him. Crippling him. Weakening him.

Edward found the Riddler's silence to be confirmation that this was the appropriate action. This was how the play was always supposed to end. The final curtain drawn.

“Edward, talk to me.” Oswald's voice sounded distant. Like he was underwater.

“Goodbye, Oswald.” Edward aimed the gun at his own temple and pulled the trigger. He fully expected the lights to go out but all he heard was the hollow _click_ of the gun's hammer. Confused, he pulled the trigger again.

Oswald appeared just as alarmed as he was. His expression contorting into one of surprise. Regret. Even fear. His eyes danced around Edward's face as he pulled something from his pocket.

“I removed the bullets when you were knocked out.” he revealed them like he had performed a magic trick, “Right before I called them.” He gestured behind Edward.

Ed turned and saw a woman with red hair he recognized from the greenhouse. On the other side of her was Victor Fries. Oswald walked passed him and stood between his two allies. His expression was unreadable. The sequence of events played out in Edward's mind. Everything from the moment he woke up handcuffed in the back of the car to his attempted suicide.

“In the backseat... the pin I used to unlock my cuffs?”

“My tie pin. I thought it should be personal.” Oswald explained

“You were just trying to make me think I had the upper hand...”

“It all fell into place.” Oswald seemed uncertain about their entire situation. This _hadn't_ played out as Oswald had expected. Not entirely.

“What are you waiting for, Oswald? Why won't you just kill me?” he pleaded. His heart ached. He longed for some kind of catharsis.

“Yeah, what _are_ we waiting for?” The red-head asked

“Ivy...” Oswald tried not to sound too annoyed by her interjection, “Let Ed smell your perfume.”

“What?” Ed barely got the question out before the woman waved an arm in front of him.

Suddenly he felt... _warm._ Despite the bitter cold and the rain, everything seemed to be bathed in a golden light- Oswald especially.

“You'll answer all of his questions?” Ivy asked

“Uh huh...” Ed nodded his head. He felt compelled to do anything and everything this woman asked of him. He hadn't felt this level of devotion toward anyone since he was Oswald's chief of staff.

“Good.” she smiled, “All yours, Pengy.”

Oswald limped forward until he was practically face-to-face with his nemesis. His breathing was erratic. His thoughts clearly rushing passed him as he thought of all the possible outcomes for this conversation.

“When you brought me out here, did you intend to kill me?”

“Yes.” He answered immediately

“So why didn't you?”

“I realized killing myself was the better option.” His own words rolled off his tongue with a truthfulness that startled him

“Why?”

“Because Gotham doesn't need someone like me. All I do is rob a bank here or there. Rob a museum, an art gallery... a pharmacy. Barbara Kean won't last on the throne of Gotham. This city needs you to be the one to look after it. You're the only one who understands this city... you're the only... one...”

Edward was disoriented. The rain kept splashing on his face. Colors were becoming less and less saturated. The whiplash of euphoria versus the emptiness he was beginning to recognize made his head reel. Whatever affect Ivy's perfume had on him was being washed away by the rain.

“You spared my life because you care about Gotham?” Oswald asked, questioning Ed's motives

“No. I couldn't care less about Gotham or the people that inhabit it. But...” Edward's teeth rattled, “I only care because you care. Because I lo-”

The word stopped at the end of his tongue.

But he couldn't resist for long.

“Finish what you started, Ed.” Oswald leaned in, “What were you going to say?”

Edward's inner voices were screaming at him. All of the times he had wanted to say it but hadn't. Just like Oswald.

“I spared you because I love you.”

Oswald stopped breathing. Edward wasn't sure if his face was covered in rain or tears. The confession just poured out of him like it was the easiest thing in the world to say. He couldn't resist the poison in his bloodstream and that terrified him. What else was Oswald going to make him confess? Was he going to make him reveal that he had fallen for him that day at the bullpen? Or that he had to resist the urge to kiss him in the back of that limo after he got released from Arkham? Or maybe that he hadn't thought about Isabella once since shooting Oswald?

Luckily, Oswald had heard enough. His mouth was a straight line and his eyes were dark.

“Did the two of you bring the truck I asked for?” Oswald turned to his companions

“Yeah.” Victor powered up his freeze gun, “Should I take care of him like we planned?”

“That won't be necessary.” Oswald glared

“Am I still getting paid?” Victor asked, annoyed

“Yes. In full. But we should ditch the police car and take the truck back to the mansion.”

Oswald limped toward Victor and a small delivery truck that was hidden just out of sight. Based on the presence of Victor Fries alone, Edward assumed that the original plan had been to freeze him in a block of ice and have him sent off to God knows where. Maybe he'd be used as a decoration at the manor or even displayed like a preserved cadaver in a museum.

“You coming, beanstalk?” Ivy asked him

“Where are we going?” Edward was still holding the empty gun. He debated filling his pockets with stones and then walking off the end of the pier. But, he wasn't sure if he still wanted to die at this point. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

“We're going home, ya silly.”

Edward hadn't been back at the Van Dahl mansion since becoming the Riddler. He threw the drugs in the river, locked the doors, and lived elsewhere. Nowadays he was living in an abandoned art museum surrounded by all of his stolen goods and stacks of useless money. When the aching loneliness started to creep upon him, he would steal something new. Maybe create a few puzzles and traps as a distraction. It kept the darkness at bay for a while but the euphoria never lasted. It was no different than the drugs, really. It was just a different kind of addiction.

He left the mansion as it was. Like a tomb. Oswald's favorite china set in white and gold was still on the table where he left it. They were stained with tea that had been left to evaporate and coat the porcelain in ugly sedimentary lines. The painting he had desecrated was still on the easel. The only indication that Oswald and the others had been living there was the state of the kitchen and the plants that now decorated every corner of the old house.

Edward didn't look up when Oswald entered the room. Edward tried sinking further into the couch to no avail. Oswald was standing in front of him now. He looked up and saw that Oswald was holding a takeout box and a pair of chopsticks.

“I took the liberty of removing the onions.” said Oswald

Edward grimaced at the takeout. It was from the same restaurant that he had disposed of Elijah Van Dahl's remains. He wondered if anyone found them or if they were hauled away on some waste disposal barge.

“You need to eat something.” Oswald insisted, “I can tell you haven't been eating properly.”

Edward took the food from Oswald. He didn't feel like eating. Not after everything that happened on the pier.

“You're not trying to poison me, are you?”

Oswald chortled, “Really? You think I would drag you all the way back here just to poison you? I'm not that cruel.”

“You used some kind of truth serum on me to get me to... say the things that I said. I'd say that was pretty cruel.” Ed blinked away tears he hadn't known were there

“You tricked me into thinking you had feelings for me in order to get me to confess. And we were friends at the time. I would argue that you were more cruel.” Oswald glared

“I was...” Edward admitted, “So what do you plan to do with me?”

“That is entirely dependent on you.” he answered

“How so?” Ed asked

“The way I see it, you have two options.” Oswald explained, “Either we kill each other at some point later in our lives or... we put all of this awfulness behind us and you help me rebuild the empire you helped destroy.”

“...I don't understand.”

“What don't you understand?”

“How could you possibly forgive me for everything that I did?” Edward said, slack-jawed

Oswald gave a sad smile, “Do I really have to say it?” Oswald walked over to him and sat next to him on the sofa. Like actors in a play. Reenacting a scene from earlier in the story before all of the hurt and betrayal.

“No... I suppose not.” Edward poked at the rice and chicken in his takeout box, “Did I pass your test?”

“What test?” Oswald feigned ignorance

“You let me take you to the pier to see if I would shoot you a second time.” he sighed, “It's why you let me believe that there were still bullets in the gun.”

“You're right. I was testing you.” Oswald sighed, “I proved you wrong when you tested _me._ I thought it only fair that I should offer you the same opportunity to prove me wrong.”

Oswald furrowed his brow. He wasn't certain how to form the next words

“But you didn't expect me to prove you wrong the way that I did?” Edward asked

“No... I didn't.” he inhaled, “I figured you would either shoot me and then I would have Victor freeze you. Or you wouldn't and I would have Ivy use her perfume to get information out of you regarding Barbara Kean and the others. But... instead... you turned the gun on yourself. I'm still not entirely certain how to process that.”

“What's there to process? Dying was preferable to killing you. That was my decision.”

Oswald stared at the fire. Searching for an answer that wouldn't come.

“Edward... I don't ever want to put you in a position where you think that killing yourself is the only way out.” he blinked back tears, “It's bad enough that your memories of me compelled you to start taking drugs.”

“Who told you about that?” Edward was chewing on his nails now. A habit from his younger years that didn't resurface until recently.

“I still have spies within City Hall. And I found your little chemistry project still set up in your office here at the manor. It wasn't hard to figure out.”

They both sat there with nothing but the crackling fire to keep them company. Ivy was in the other room watching television and Victor was asleep in the freezer. Despite people living there, the manor seemed hollow. Lifeless.

“I won't make you decide until after you've eaten. I'll be back to check on you later.” Oswald was about to stand but was stopped by a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Edward's brown eyes looking up at him.

Edward set the box of takeout aside and pulled Oswald back to the sofa, “Stay with me. Please.”

“Of course.”

Edward suddenly felt very heavy. Fatigue finally catching up with him as he slumped over into Oswald's lap. After a moment of uneasiness, they both melted into the closeness of the other. Oswald ran his pale fingers through Edward's hair.

“You're not allowed to take a nap until you've eaten.” Oswald scolded

“I haven't slept in seventy-two hours.” Edward confessed

“W-why?!” he squawked.

“Nightmares.” he sighed, “But I think I can sleep soundly now...”

Oswald smiled and continued carding his fingers through the other man's curly brown hair until he fell asleep.

As the taller man dozed, Oswald couldn't help but wonder at the uncertainty of it all. Things were still ambiguous between them and his paranoia was still screeching at him to not trust whatever the hell this was. But his heart told him elsewise. It compelled him to trust him. It told him to push forward. It told him to run toward it.


End file.
